


Crack. Splinter. Shatter.

by MoonwalkingCrab



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, They're both so broken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 19:37:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7451476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonwalkingCrab/pseuds/MoonwalkingCrab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux's world is falling apart, it's only a matter of time before he does too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crack. Splinter. Shatter.

**Author's Note:**

> After finding out a little more about our dear General, this kinda just fell out of my head.
> 
> Come talk to me [here.](http://moonwalkingcrab.tumblr.com/)

Crack, splinter, shatter.

He replays it in his head, over and over. A blur of images. Just images. No emotions, no time for that. Don’t stop, don’t think, just keep going.

_Useless._

Distractions, distractions are good. There will be reports, maybe. Damages. Deaths. So much lost. The weight of that loss is on his shoulders, it presses him down, the pressure of an invisible hand. An invisible gaze of harsh unforgiving eyes.

_All your fault._

Should have known. Too weak. Who did he think he was? He can still feel the ground tearing beneath his feet, the lurch that echoes through his own stomach. The cracks of Starkiller as it pulls itself apart at the seams. Failure. There is no hiding, he was never good at it anyway. The thin line of his control wavers, stretched ever tighter, it’s only a matter of time. He needs to move, to keep going. Ignore it, press it down.

The thoughts chase him, through the Academy, through the military, through Starkiller’s hallways, through the frozen forest where he would have gladly died. They will always find him.

The light splinters in his eyes and he pushes it back. He won’t break, he can’t. Not anymore. Those days are behind him, drowned in the rain of Arkanis. 

The days pass, the ship moving closer and closer to a destination he isn’t sure he wants them to reach. Hatred is his constant companion. The utter disgust, the taste of bile in his own throat, washed down with the harsh burn of alcohol. His quarters are dark, his eyes burning as he stares into the past, too concerned to look to the future.

_Afraid. Weak._

The shatter of glass as another bottle hits the pile.

This is where Kylo finds him. His head a maelstrom. He needs order now, he craves it. A look at the stubble and shadowed eyes makes it clear. This is something Hux cannot give. Not now. Stripped of everything, all padding gone. Thin and small, a ghost of his usual presence. The smell of drink curls off him, intoxicating, the promise of blissful oblivion.

“What?” Hux’s voice cracks with disuse. The speeches and propaganda are nothing now, another mask destroyed on Starkiller. Both faces are laid bare now, scars visible for all to see. Hux is so thin, so pale, gloveless, nothing to disguise the crescent scars on his hands. His mind still buzzes within the alcohol fog, even now he can sense the nervous energy beneath the still, pale skin.

Kylo doesn’t speak, he’s afraid of what will fall out if he opens his mouth. Regret? Vomit?

Together they sit, melancholy companionship.

Eventually, the alcohol is gone and still they sit. Hux has pushed everything so far back in his mind that he exists in nothing more than a numb haze. Numbness is ideal. No thoughts, no feelings, no choking despair in the pit of his stomach.

_Failure._

Ren is talking, Hux hasn’t listened. It’s all anger and curses, hatred of the scavenger girl. Hux wonders what it must be like, to have your emotions so close to the surface. To be able to express your own wishes, your own desires. The man in front of him shattered all expectations put upon him and Hux hates him for his freedom.

The flow of words has ebbed and Kylo’s hand twists, fist clenching in the black robes. His head is bowed, hair falling across a face twisted in pain. Ren’s voice his heavy, broken, “I killed him, I killed my father… I thought… I didn’t expect.” 

Hux raises a hand paying attention now, looking past the wide-eyed gaze thinking back for the first time in years. His voice is low, lacking any inflection. 

“You thought it would make a difference. You thought that maybe, finally things would change. You thought that maybe you were wresting control for the first time in your own miserable life. Believe me Ren,” his pale eyes are rimmed with red, with alcohol or emotion, Kylo cannot tell, “believe me… I know.”

The pale ball of a fist in his lap, the tang of blood in the air, just on the edge of his senses.

“Why come here Ren? Why me?”

“I just… I needed to talk.” He shakes his head, swallowing hard, “I thought maybe… You’re always so sure, so strong.”

The sliver of a golden brown iris beneath a heavy lid. Shining, threatening to spill. The last vestiges of his self control hang with that tear. Concentration splintering, little jagged shards.

_Worthless. Weak._

Kylo’s shoulders shudder, lower lip sucked between his teeth.

“Don’t.” His voice is a whisper left hanging in the air. His fingers reach out to… what? To comfort? To project his weakness on another? Wet eyes shine in the dim light, mouth parted, trying to draw breath into a too-tight chest.

A precipice. They stand on the edge, a single moment stretching into eternity. His hands tremble.

Kylo leans forward and Hux whispers out once more.

“Don’t.” It’s less sure this time, the tiniest crack in his shield.

“I can’t. I failed. I thought this would change things but I’m weaker than ever…”

If Hux could feel anything other than numbing despair he would laugh. Two of the most powerful men in the First Order, together in the dark, comparing scars.

Kylo’s great chest heaves in a silent sob. The tear falls.

And finally Hux lets himself shatter. It’s release, relief and in an instant he can feel Ren’s breath hot on his neck. It’s pathetic. They’re pathetic. Clinging, sobbing. His breath is squeezed out of him along with his tears. Two pairs of red rimmed eyes meet and then there are kisses.

Kisses that taste of salt, wet faces pressed together in desperation, it should be disgusting. He’s sure they both are disgusting but he doesn’t care. Lips press their way across his reddened cheeks and Hux finds himself whispering out.

“Please.” 

He’s not sure what he’s asking for. _Please don’t push me away. Please want me. I’ll do anything, please just hold me._

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this. You’re amazing.” Kylo murmurs into his neck and Hux can feel the lump rise in his throat. He’s not. He’s useless.

The night is spent in a blur of murmurs and soft words, meaningless encouragement and kisses that scream more than either man is willing to say out loud.

The cracks are still there in the morning, they always will be, but now at least, the edges are a tiny bit smoother.


End file.
